This Cursed Gift
by Midgy
Summary: In which there are such things as officially unofficial S-Class Mages.
1. Flickering Candle

_Sup, peoples._

_This is my first attempt at Fairy Tail. So... Wish me luck!_

_I don't own Fairy Tail, obviously. It's too amazing for me to have come up with it, anyway._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

No one noticed the flickering candle.

The rowdy group was too busy picking fights with one another, most of them with a drink in their hands. During a particularly brutal skirmish, one of the candles stationed haphazardly around the perimeter of the room went out, but it violently flared back to life seconds later. Once the flame died down to normalcy, it was clear none of the inebriated persons, who had all gathered in the middle of the room to cheer on the fight, had taken notice. As it was, it had not been in their best interest to miss such a happening.

For that was their only warning.

With a sudden bang, the two heavy, wooden doors at the entrance of the room burst open; a gust of wind soon followed from the cold night outside, swirling throughout the large room and blowing out all the candles. The room plunged into darkness, and the people inside were quick to become sober.

"Who's there?" One man called gruffly, desperately squinting into the darkness beyond the doors to try to make his eyes adjust faster.

When they received no answer, there was a collective shuffling from the group. Pulling out a multitude of weapons, they all prepared for an attack.

In the tense air that followed, no one dared to move. Muscles tensed and grips tightened on the handles of the various weapons. Although enough time had passed for everyone's eyes to have dilated to the new darkness, it was too dark to see anything more than a world of blurred shadows.

As the old saying goes: you aren't afraid of the dark itself, but of what may lie in the dark unseen.

And that's when the thing in the dark made a noise.

_Footsteps._

Light, quiet, and slow footfalls crunched their way up the gravel road that lead to the open front door of the building. Despite the increasingly anxious mood due to the new sound, one blurred shadow tried to show off his bravery.

"Show yourself!" He bellowed, unknowingly making his comrades jump in surprise at the loud sound compared to the faint footsteps that they had to strain to hear.

No noise answered except the continuous steps coming closer and closer.

The brave man, egged on by annoyance, became even more brave, or, if you will, foolish.

"Just turn around and leave! You have no _idea_ what you're getting yourself into by challenging our guild!"

The footsteps didn't even falter, angering the man further. Making a great show of getting to the open entranceway by running into and shoving other's as he went, the man groped blindly for the edge of the door to use as an anchor in the darkness.

"You've asked for it," he sneered, twirling the sword in his hand in a show of skill. "How dare you even _think_ you could just-?!"

A grunt of pain cut off his words as he staggered back unsteadily, bent over from the waist holding his stomach. Wheezing heavily at having the breath knocked out of him, he quickly snapped his head up with a growl, searching with hostile eyes for what had delivered the blow. Before he could find a source, another seemingly invisible force came from the complete opposite side, targeting his back. The man fell with a hiss as his knees rammed into the floor without mercy.

"Are you okay?" a worried, panicked voice asked from behind him. "What's going on?"

The man at the door dragged himself up to his feet using the door frame for support, eyes flickering from one unidentifiable black shape to the next. He could not swing his sword wildly in an attempt to make contact with an enemy he couldn't see. More than likely, he would instead end up attacking his own guild mates.

"We need light!" he instead shouted over his shoulder. "We can't fight if we don't know what we're hitting!"

There was a pause as they all processed this. In hindsight, it should have been the first thing that occurred to them when the candles, their only light source, had gone out. A ripple of urgency seemed to roll through them, and they suddenly burst into action. It was madness as everyone tried to hurriedly make their way around in a blind frenzy. Several curses rang out when two would run into each other harder than both thought were physically possible.

Finally, after many squabbles and bruised heads, someone was able to produce a match box. A short minute later after directing the person to a candle, a small glow of light lit up some relieved faces. The match was quickly struck again to light another, but before the lit match could alight another candle, it was yanked out of the person's grasp.

Everyone watched, completely shocked, as the small source of light gently floated across the room. It stopped when a hand reached out of the darkness and took hold of it. There was a short glimpse of a cloaked figure standing in the door before there was a small puffing sound, and the match went out.

There was a moment of silence with everyone staring at the spot where the match had last been seen. The single candle wavered threateningly, almost daring to go out. It held strong, however, and gave off enough of a soft glow that the world took on a more gray view instead of pitch black. And there, barely within the range of the scant light, the cloaked figure stood. It made no move, positive or negative, simply staying still, looking to them for the next move. And so, by some unspoken agreement, they all charged.

A large uproar rose from the crowd, all of them rushing the figure at once with raised weapons, some even preparing magic spells for their preferred choice in attack.

With the next move decided, the cloaked figure took a step towards the group, undeterred by the odds. The one who reached the figure first let out a yell, raising a large scimitar above his head, but before he could bring it down upon the other, he seemed to freeze in midair. Just as suddenly as it happened, he was thrown backwards by the same force, landing against a hard stone wall. He crumpled to the floor and didn't stir.

This, if anything, angered the group even more. Several more jumped at the figure, but they all received the same fate as the first. An invisible barrier appeared to surround the strange person, and once one crossed this line, they would be tossed back to hit the wall or floor with such power that they were immediately knocked unconscious.

Throughout all of this, the figure just continued walking straight as if nothing was blocking their predetermined path. As if they weren't strolling through the middle of more than a hundred angry, armed fighters who were set in the idea of causing harm.

Soon, the first onslaught of the attack slowed, and people started hanging back from the fight, not sure if it could be classified as one anyway. There didn't seem to be any sort of retaliation from the stranger, really, who by now had traversed halfway across the large room unhindered. Either way, some of the wiser ones were weighing the pros and cons, trying to decide if it was really worth it.

When the last attacker was thrown back, all that was left were a handful of those hesitating, who shuffled warily, not quite sure whether to charge or flee. That decision, however, was quickly made for them. The figure, never slowing in its stride, thrust out a cloaked arm. Immediately, all the stragglers were simultaneously picked up and slammed headfirst into the ground where their feet had been half a second earlier.

Quiet descended as the only moving being continued towards the large staircase that was at opposite ends with the entrance. All the while, the invisible barrier pushed and shoved bodies out-of-the-way to insure a clear path. Halfway up the stairs, a small hissing noise interrupted the silence. A dagger, thrown from a still conscious, but only just, man from his spot on the floor, flew with surprisingly deadly accuracy towards the back of the figure's cloaked head.

It seemed it would all be over as the unsuspecting stranger would soon find a blade lodged into their brain, but that was not to be the case. Quicker than anyone could blink, a thin, horizontal line of gray light slashed through midair behind the figure. A millisecond later, the place where the line of light had been seemed to tear, a ripping sound preceding the sudden appearance of a large, gaping hole that looked as if it centered on where the line had been. The only thing inside the hole was gray nothingness, different shades of the color swirling and blending together in its depths.

The dagger headed straight into the gray void, and as soon as the end of the hilt had disappeared, another light flashed a little ways off to the side of the figure. Another tear opened in mid-space right when the first one sealed shut, and immediately the dagger sped out of this new rip, still having maintained the same velocity. The only difference being that the dagger was now handle first as it went careening in the direction it had come from.

A heavy thump later, and the original wielder of the dagger had been officially knocked out, his own weapon hitting him in his temple.

The figure was now at the top of the stairs. Not hesitating, the stranger kept walking forward. Directly across the landing, doors not unlike the ones entering into the building opened of their own accord.

Inside of this room, two very large men were waiting for the person. They stood, all muscle and no brains, on either side of a desk. Behind this desk, a man sat in a throne-like chair. Compared to the two brutes, he appeared to be a dwarf, but the smirk stretching his face suggested otherwise. This was a man in power.

"Ah, so you have made it past those idiots downstairs?" he drawled, confident. He did have his two best guys beside him. "Not surprising, real-"

He was cut off by two very loud thumping noises, one after another. In less than ten seconds after entering the room, his two best guys had been thrown to opposite sides, hitting the ground with such force and precision that they didn't stir again.

The small man felt a bead of sweet roll down the side of his face. His two strongest guys in the guild, thrown away like rag-dolls. And the stranger hadn't even touched them. In fact, the figure was still standing in the doorway, not having moved a muscle throughout the ordeal.

With a grimace, the hologram of the small man disappeared into thin air, the real version hiding in a nook in one of the bookcases on either side of the door. Once the stranger walked further into the room at the disappearance, he realized he had a clear shot. Activating his magic, he quickly leapt out of hiding, aiming for the center of the person's back.

But before he could, a hand reached out and grabbed his wrist. He was dangling in the air about four feet off the ground. The tight grip digging fingers into his skin, bruising almost instantly. The man kicked his feet uselessly in an attempt to dislodge himself, but the grasp was ironclad.

Dragging his eyes up from the floor, the short man set to glare his opponent into submission. His magic was useless for now without both of his hands, so he would win through sheer fear, but instead of a menacing glare, all he could come up with was a confused stare. He found himself not looking into hooded eyes, but black cloth. The stranger had yet to even turn around, let alone reach out a hand to grab him...

His eyes widened in recognition. He hadn't thought it possible, but here was living proof of all the rumors. "Sh-Shizuka..." he whispered.

The stranger took that moment to turn around, and just as was previously expected, eyes and upper half of a face were covered in the drawn hood's shadow. As the person took a slow, calculating step towards the no-longer-struggling victim, the man couldn't help but wildly think that the figure's chin was pointed and slender, oddly feminine like.

His frantic thoughts were halted when the person stopped, not two feet away. His thoughts crashed and burned when a quiet lilting voice spoke up, a strange inflection hidden in the whisper, and in a tone that could only be female.

"Cowards, attacking while my back was turned."

"Like _you_ have any room to talk!" he growled, becoming easily riled up at being called a coward. "Not even facing us yourself, but with some invisible trickery! Now _that's_ what I call cheap!"

The grip on his arm tightened mercilessly, threatening to break bone. A flash of light flared beneath the short man. Soon, a large hole ripped open the floor right below where his feet dangled. The short man gaped, sweat rolling down his face in nervousness. He had heard of this before... This... If this was who he thought... No, not possible! They're just stupid rumors!

"Tell me what I want to know," the woman whispered, "or you will end up in the middle of the sea, a hundred miles from land in any direction."

The figure was finally taken seriously when the man was released from the unseen grip, only to be caught inches before his foot could enter the tear. Confronted with a death threat that the short man no longer doubted could, and would, be executed, he broke down quickly. Sobbing heavily, he still managed to look the stranger in the face.

"W-What do you want t-to know?" he cried out. "Please, _please_ just don't drop me! I'll do anything!"

The stranger stepped closer, and the invisible hand lowered the short man further towards the endless hole. When his cries and desperate pleas increased, the figure spoke.

"Where are my parents?"

* * *

_Hm... I wonder what all that was about... Kidding, of course. I already know, suckers. Perks of being authoress._

_I hope you liked it. If you did, or even if you didn't, please tell me._

_Next chapter up soon!_


	2. Forgotten Herbs

_Sup._

_Another chapter, yay! Sorry about the wait. I've been doing a history research paper. It makes me all write'd out..._

_I don't own Fairy Tail, but I do own the picture of Loke I drew. Ah, Loke..._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

The mug clanked as it was set back down on the counter. With a face-altering smile, the Master of the Fairy Tail Guild gave an uproarious laugh. Today was a good day; he could just feel it in his bones. Everyone was back and accounted for. No one was out on a dangerous mission that made him worry and fret till they came back. For once in a long while, the whole Fairy Tail guild was sitting around and just enjoying the fact that they were a part of a guild.

Well, minus a few S-class mages, but they were almost never here. Besides, they could take care of themselves; he was sure.

He watched through mirth-filled eyes as Natsu got on top of a table, yelling at a certain ice Mage on the complete opposite side of the room. Erza was playing nice for once, seemingly affected by the absolute serenity and joy that permeated the guild. She was talking with Lucy, and after closer listening on the Master's part, he was surprised to hear them discussing fashion of all things. Makarov gave another drink to that. Lucy's more laid back nature was a good influence for Erza.

Everyone was relaxed, not worrying about a mission, enemies, or dark guilds. The only thing they worried about right now was whether or not Mira would be able to hand out their drinks quick enough.

Makarov paused at that. Discreetly looking around the bar behind him, then the whole guild in front, he wondered where the white-haired girl had gone off to. It wasn't like her to just disappear. She liked to be in the thick of things where the guild was concerned, and right now that was right here. So where was she?

A door opening quietly behind him had Makarov relaxing once more. Mira slipped out of the storeroom that was located behind the bar and went to immediately fill orders of those that had been waiting patiently. Once everyone was taken care of and the only people left at the bar were Mira and Makarov, she spoke.

"She's back," she said simply, smiling her trademark smile while starting to clean a glass tankard with a cloth.

Makarov answered by taking a swig from his own drink, but he still couldn't hide the relieved tilt to his lips, "And?"

Mira shook her head sadly, the smile slipping from her beautiful face.

Makarov sighed, closing his eyes. He set down his mug with another clank, "How many did she complete?"

There was a pregnant pause, and the hand wiping the glass slowed. "Five within the week," Mira answered quietly.

"Five?" Makarov growled menacingly, like a warning, before he exploded. "I can't _believe_ her! She knows she has to take it easy! What was she thinking!?" Realizing he was drawing some strange looks from a few guild members because of the volume of his voice, he dropped to almost a whisper, but it was a strained, angry one, "And completing five S-class quests in one week is _not_ my definition of taking it easy..."

Mira put away the now clean glass, going over to lean on the counter of the bar, "How many quests did you hold back for her this time?"

Makarov stilled, all signs of anger draining out of him. He glanced to the side in a show of guilt. "Seven," he finally answered gruffly.

Mira suddenly looked stern, "Did you give them to her all at once?" When Makarov didn't answer, she pushed away from the counter and put her hands on her hips, "You know better than that, Master," she chided. "You know how determined she is. Giving her seven quests all at once will not make her want to take it easy, not when she has seven chances," she sighed, her voice lowering, "seven possible leads..."

"I know, Mira. Trust me, I know." Makarov closed his eyes almost tiredly. Of course he knew what the consequences of his hasty actions would probably be, but… "I just want her to succeed," he let out along with a gusty sigh.

Mira's eyes softened; her hands dropping down to her sides, "We all do, Master, but she won't be able to if she keeps pushing herself like this."

"Right, well, I should probably go and check on her," Makarov stood up. "If she came back before she completed all of the quests, something might have happened, especially if she did the others in such a short amount of time," but before he could jump down from the counter, a hand landed on his shoulder.

"Be careful, Master. If she did push herself, someone will be angry," Mira said with a smile, now as happy as she had been before their conversation, completely counteracting the meaning of her words.

But Makarov knew what she meant. He paled considerably.

* * *

"… useless, ignorant fools… all of them… why I wish… they should just… the idiots…"

The mumbling continued in a broken stream, halting mid-sentence every now and again when the woman would stoop to pick an herb. She would go quiet then in concentration, but as soon as she straightened out her back, the words would flow once more as if they had never stopped. It was like she continued the sentence in her mind when she would fall quiet.

"… all my life…" she plucked a little green plant, placing it in the basket on her arm as she stood, "… don't even understand…"

The woman wearing a dark red cloak suddenly froze. Turning around, she faced the opposite end of the clearing she was in. There was a rustling of leaves, and the sound of muted footfalls on the forest floor. When a shape stepped into the clearing, the woman's elderly features twisted into a scowl.

"Makarov," she hissed, gripping her basket with both hands tightly.

Makarov smiled weakly, "H-Hello, Porlyusica." He cleared his throat of the stutter before he asked politely, "How are you doing?" But she only glared, not even bothering to respond. This didn't look good.

And indeed it didn't, for in the next second, the pink-haired woman was on the attack. Wielding her basket as a weapon, she charged the master of the Fairy Tail guild.

"How _dare_ you, you _insolent,_ _old_ man! Do you have the slightest _idea _what you have _done_?!" she roared, whacking him repeatedly, completely ignoring the herbs that she had picked so carefully as they flew out of the basket. "You don't know the difference between _pride_ and _stupidity_!"

Makarov only closed his eyes and raised his hands to protect his face. He let her rant away. This was the way of her showing how she cared, he knew that. But dang did she have a hard swing! So when he thought that she had had plenty of time, he talked loud enough to break through her yells.

"How is she?"

Immediately, Porlyusica stopped. Lowering her now empty basket, she leveled Makarov with an emotionless stare, but Makarov saw, however fleeting, the hint of sadness flicker through her dark eyes. His eyes widened, knowing the implication. With a growl, he ripped off his hat, clenching it in trembling fists. How could he have even _thought_ to give her seven quests at once? He knew her well enough to know just exactly what she would do, but yet, he had still done it.

"I want to see her," Makarov finally spoke, looking up from the ground.

Porlyusica didn't say anything, but she looked over her shoulder at the large tree at one edge of the clearing. After staring at her home for a while, she turned back to Makarov with a sigh, "If you must."

Makarov had to hurry to catch up with the woman as she took off briskly towards the tree house of sorts. He didn't take her scathing tone personally; he knew she was just worried for her.

When Porlyusica reached her brown door, she threw it open, disappearing inside quickly. Makarov wasn't far behind her, and he was soon inside the living house as well. His eyes didn't look at any of the impressive interior of the house. Not the multiple crooks and crannies that had been carved into the inside of the trunk, not the multiple books and potions that filled these crannies, or the beautiful garden that took over one whole corner of the space. No, his eyes zeroed in on the large bed and the person in it.

"Another one?" he choked out in shock. He didn't think… Never did he think it would have been that bad.

Porlyusica nodded sadly, a frown tilting her lips. She was standing beside the bed, looking down at the pale girl. She was unconscious, her head having fallen to the side on the pillow, her face towards the wall and away from the others. After a moment of hesitation, Porlyusica reached out one hand slowly. Touching brown hair, she lightly ran her fingers down the length of the strand. She then moved her hand to another part of her hair, and ran her fingers through a different strand.

Makarov walked closer to the bed, sighing as he saw what Porlyusica was doing. This was all his fault. Rubbing his face with a hand roughly, he looked back at Porlyusica's hand. Her hand was still lightly running over that same strand. But it wasn't the same. Not the same as the rest of the hair.

That strand, along with two other inch wide sections, was gray. They contrasted sharply with the normal, dark brown hair.

"It was bad," Porlyusica whispered, putting her now shaking hand back by her side. "It wasn't the first time I had seen one, but this was by far the worst." She turned to Makarov, who watched in astonishment as tears that had built up in her eyes started making their way down her cheeks.

"Porly -" he tried, but she cut him off.

"No, Makarov, understand this: with every episode, it gets worse and worse. She stays longer and longer unconscious after the incidents. She has been unconscious for two days now. At first it had been just a hunch of mine, but now I know for a fact. Each one is taking a bigger toll on her than the last, Makarov, and if we don't do something- " She took in a deep breath, steadying herself, before she tried again, "If something doesn't change, she will… die."

Makarov opened his mouth to speak, but not a single sound came out. He was completely shocked. How could he have let this happen? He was supposed to take care of her! He had no idea that it could get that bad, but what could they do about it? They had tried before, but nothing seemed to work. He wouldn't give up, of course. Maybe… Maybe she should… No, that seemed to make it worse. But she could adapt to it… Possibly become better able to handle it…

As Makarov was lost in his thoughts, Porlyusica quickly wiped away her tears, looking back over at the girl in the bed. A small noise suddenly sounded from the girl, and Porlyusica's eyes widened. Quickly pressing two fingers to the pulse on her neck, she relaxed when she felt the steady beat of her heart.

"Don't scare me like that!" Makarov grumbled reproachfully, but even he had been scared for the worse. Especially after what he had just been told.

"It's not my fault," Porlyusica glared at him, half in anger and half to cover up her relief. "I was taking precautions."

The girl suddenly made another sound, a more defined whimpering noise. She tossed her head to the other side, giving them a clear view of her delicate features that were morphed into a look of pain. With another whimper, this one louder than the last, Porlyusica rushed to her desk. Grabbing different utensils and ingredients, she flipped through a book that had already been open on the surface.

"She has never done that before; she is going to need a new, stronger potion for when she wakes up this time," Porlyusica winced when she heard another quiet moan. "The old concoction won't be enough."

Makarov didn't say anything, not having looked away from the brown-haired girl. She tossed her head again, squeezing her eyes shut even tighter. The master of the Fairy Tail guild looked on helplessly.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered. Twisting his hat in his hands, he watched her toss and turn, "Oh Rin…"

* * *

_So someone's name is Rin... Interesting. But what was the deal with all that stuff in the first chapter? That was weird, wasn't it? It's like a mystery! Or is it blindingly obvious whats going on? I dunno either._

_Pft, writers. Crazy creatures._

_Hope you liked it. Tell me if you did or didn't, please. B-But only if you want to... You don't have to..._


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